Fights
by onmyside
Summary: "You disappoint me!" It hurt. How could he say something like this? Why did they recently fight so much? Elsie Hughes tries to understand why Charles Carson is "who he is". Spoilers for series 03.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I do not own the characters. I only borrowed them from Mr. Fellowes and ITV. No copyright violation intended.**

**(I had a problem "enjoying" their arguments in 03x06 so I wrote this)(thank you beta readers she-stole-my-heart-away, heckofatime and kouw!)  
**

* * *

There was a hesitant knock on the door of her sitting room that she did not want to answer. Not after the last few days when all they had done was fight and argue over everything. She had tried her best to cope with it, had always found an answer or argument that would top his. Like she always did. In the end, however, she could no longer ignore the comments that he had only said to hurt her. At least that was how it felt.

She had left the servant's hall directly after their supper to find some solitude in her sitting room. It was the only place in the house aside from her bedroom that was solely hers, a refuge from everything that happened beyond her closed door in this big old house.

_But you disappoint me._

_You can be as tough as you like…_

His words echoed in her head, over and over again. After all she had gone through, after he had sung for her, worried about her, she was still a disappointment in his eyes? All because she had had the courage to help and support a girl that had once worked under this roof? Why did it still matter that Ethel had at one point seen no hope in her life anymore and ended up on the streets, when now she had found her way back to a normal life? The girl had learned from her past. And so should he.

He still stood behind the door. There was a second knock. "Mrs. Hughes? May I come in?"

No, she was angry with him and whatever he would do tonight would cause her to forgive him once again. One glass of wine and a half-hearted excuse always did the trick. Not this time. She remained silent and did not answer until he heard him turn away, his steps echoing on the stone floor leading away from her door down the corridor to his pantry.

* * *

She should be asleep by now but instead she was wide awake, her mind busy processing what had happened between them in the last few weeks and months. The darkness that surrounded her felt only right. Her eyes admittedly slowly adjusted to it but there was no sign of daylight yet, no way out of the night. The same could be said for her thoughts. Underneath her duvet her feet were as cold as her hands. And her heart, she thought. There had been a moment when she was certain that their relationship had crossed that invisible line between friendship and something stronger. She had seen a glimpse of the real Charles Carson then, the cheerful man that for once did not care about his job, propriety, standards or rules but only for her. She had hoped he would see the world with different eyes. Embrace the change, the fact that nothing ever stayed the same and things could be lost the next minute. Yet he had fallen back into his old habits, ignored whatever it was that made him sing for her and put on his façade again.

Life was too short to ignore the world they lived in at the moment. And it was too short to continue with their fighting. She would no longer argue with him or passionately defend her opinion in their discussions. Maybe he would realize that a passive Elsie Hughes was not what he wanted. Maybe it would make him understand that his words had a deeper meaning even out of context. She wanted the caring and supportive Charles Carson back, along with the one that was ready and willing to take a step further in their relationship.

* * *

She was late for breakfast the next morning though the rest of the staff seemed to neither notice nor care. They knew better than to question their superior's actions and kept their eyes on their plates after they had acknowledged her presence.

When she took her seat to his right, one quick glance reassured her that at least he had wondered or worried why she had not been downstairs at the same time as him. A fleeting look into her eyes, an almost imperceptible raise of his eyebrows was usually enough to make her forgive him his behaviour from the previous day. Today she would not forgive him.

With a smile on her face she took her seat. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes." He had his gaze still fixed on her. "Are you alright?" he added in a whisper.

Actually, she thought, I am angry with you, disappointed and hurt. "Certainly."

He furrowed his brow, clearly not convinced by her unusual cheerfulness. But he did not press her to say more. Instead he returned to eating his breakfast in silence, not addressing her again. Only once did she catch him looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

* * *

She had been busy all day. The christening needed to be organised, orders were written, menus planned and the rota revised to delegate the extra work equally. She had not left her sitting room all morning which also meant that there had not been another argument between them. Mrs. Patmore had asked for the store cupboard key which she had handed out without any comment or her usual reluctance. Anna wanted a day off for a last visit to York prison. But Charles Carson had not found his way to her sitting room, surprisingly.

Only when she got ready for a walk down to the village to negotiate with the greengrocer and the butcher, he suddenly appeared in her doorway.

"You are going out?"

She adjusted her hat in front of the mirror and paid him no attention.

"To visit Ms. Parks?" He tried to keep his voice free from the dislike and prejudices he held towards Ethel but without success. She could hear the _again _he mentally added, although he did not say it out loud.

"There is a christening this weekend and I have to secure the provisions and discuss the prices with the local merchants." She would not hit back at him. Not this time. Turning around, she realized the smile on his face. Should she interpret it as an excuse for his comment on Ethel? Or did it reflect the relief he had felt after hearing that she would not visit the _fallen woman_ again? Elsie had once been able to read between the lines when it came to Charles Carson. He was like an open book to her most days.

"Oh, I see." The smile was still there but he remained standing in the doorway, had not yet crossed the threshold to enter her room.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Carson?" She took a few steps towards him, closing the buttons of her coat and picking up her handbag from the small table as she did so, ready to leave.

"No. We can talk later I guess, when you are back. There were a few things I wanted to ask you last night."

And which you had no chance to ask because I refused to talk to you. "About the christening I suppose?" She would only talk about their work. Nothing more, nothing less.

He hesitated, opened his mouth as if to answer her question but closed it again, obviously unsure whether to reply at all. She fixed his gaze. "Well, I must be off."

As soon as she took another step forward to pass him, he decided to answer. "Yes. Of course, we have to organise some more things I guess."

She nodded her approval and left the house through the back door. Her plan seemed to have an effect on him already.

* * *

Of course she also went to see Ethel and to inquire about her progress in the kitchen at Crawley house. After all, she had never told him she would not. Mrs. Crawley even invited her for a cup of tea which she gladly accepted.

"I knew it was wrong to believe everyone would be happy about my decision, Mrs. Hughes." Isobel Crawley took a sip from the fresh tea Ethel had served minutes before. The expression on her face revealed that the young woman had done a good job this time, obviously something Mrs. Crawley did not necessarily expect.

"Ma'am I am very grateful that you gave Ethel a second chance. And as I said before, it was never supposed to be easy." The tea was in fact good.

"Yes, I have realized this now. You see, I thought no one would care about her past when they saw how hard she worked here to get a life back." She offered her some biscuits. "Ethel made them."

Elsie took on. The biscuits, too, were edible and tasted almost the same like Mrs. Patmore's. It would be a lie to say she was not impressed. "People will always judge you by your past, Ma'am. By the faults you have made and the wrong decisions."

Mrs. Crawley let out a sigh. "That is true, Mrs. Hughes."

"Even I judged Ethel once." And I also threw her out, left her on her own and did forget about her after a while, because I was too busy solving my own problems.

"But you support her now. I am very grateful that Mrs. Patmore helped her in the kitchen." Isobel Crawley smiled and pointed at the biscuits. "The first ones were actually bitter and almost black."

They shared a laugh. "Mr. Carson is still not very pleased about all of this, isn't he?" The older woman inquired.

This was indeed the reason for their recent fights, although the real problem lay hidden underneath layers of carefully ignored and suppressed fears. Added on top of this, was his inability to accept change, to see the good in people that had made mistakes once. He was stubborn at times, and one-sided. Whereas for her there was not only black and white but also shades in between.

"Not at all, I am afraid, Ma'am."

* * *

News travelled incredibly fast. The moment she opened the back door and entered the familiarity of the house again, he stepped out of his pantry into the corridor, arms behind his back, his back rigid and straight like a statue. Without asking she knew what he already meant to know. Someone had obviously seen her entering or leaving Crawley house. How could she avoid a confrontation now? Staying passive when he was already flaming with anger would not be easy.

"Mr. Carson." It was an effort to keep her voice indifferent and calm. Letting him know immediately that the way he stood there already caused her to tense up, was unwise. So she kept her face relaxed and started to undo the buttons on her coat. "Is something the matter?"

"May I speak to you?" In contrast to her voice, his sounded strained. "_Now." _He added like an afterthought.

A hardly audible sigh escaped her lips. Before she could roll her eyes at him, as was her usual habit, he had turned around. She followed him into his pantry, mentally preparing for another small and absolutely unnecessary discussion about propriety and standards.

He stood in front of his desk, hands still behind his back and looking down at her. As hard as it was, she tried to keep that smile on her face. Asking once more what the problem was.

"You know very well what the problem is, Mrs. Hughes. You said you would not visit Ms. Parks again."

She suppressed her initial reaction as best as she could. It was none of his business to tell her what to do. He was her equal and not entitled to give her any orders or reprimand her. And most certainly not when she had done nothing wrong and only inquired after a former employee. Before she answered, she had to take a deep breath to calm down and choke her anger.

"I didn't say I would not visit her, Mr. Carson. Besides I was with Mrs. Crawley not Ms. Parks." She waited for him to dress her down again. This time she was prepared. He would not hurt her again.

His lips had contorted into a thin line and his eyes could not meet her gaze, wandered across her body restlessly instead. "But you were at Crawley house?"

"Yes I was." One hand moved up to her hat to remove it, the other rearranged her hair absentmindedly; small gestures that he usually not associated with her during an argument. "I had a nice cup of tea."

She could see on his face that his anger was replaced by an increasing uneasiness. Her calm responses were so unlike her and not at all what he had expected. The butler had to sit down on the edge of his desk before he could react to her answer.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Hughes." With the index finger and thumb of his left hand he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I did not mean to spy on you or question you about your whereabouts."

"I am glad to hear this." She stayed in his pantry for a while longer, studying him closely while his eyes were fixed on a spot on the stone floor in front of him. He looked tired and exhausted in the dim yellow light of the few lamps he had lit to make his room a bit brighter. His hair was not exactly in place anymore; a curl had escaped and covered his forehead. Something he would not have allowed on a normal day. Maybe her decision had been wrong? Should she invite him for a cup of tea into her sitting room after dinner just to talk? Like they had done so many times before? Ignore their recent disagreements once again and pretend everything was like it always had been?

When he looked up, his face was void of emotions. "You have to understand that I cannot allow anymore gossip. I thought you of all people in this household would understand. But obviously I was wrong."

He had done it again. Indirectly he had admitted a second time within days what a disappointment she was in his eyes. She stood there staring blankly at him, unable to respond. His expression did not change. There was no apology in his eyes, no kindness in his features. Charles Carson was only a façade at this very moment. She would spend another evening on her own. And maybe a few more in the next days, until he saw reason and apologized or at least realized his mistake.

"We should discuss the festivities for the christening now", she managed to say after a while, anxious to keep the hurt and the anger out of her voice.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I hope you liked the first chapter. I don't know if this second chapter makes any sense. **

* * *

Their encounters over the next week after the christening of baby Sybil were brief. The household was back to normal, no elaborate dinners had to be organised, there were no guests to take care of. Only when necessary did she ask for his opinion or assistance. Most of the time she stayed in her sitting room, handling her own issues without the need for additional help, and the few times she was on her rounds, she tried to avoid crossing his path. The once respectful and friendly atmosphere between them had disappeared and been replaced by a business relationship that did not require any personal contact outside their working hours.

"Something is wrong with you!" Mrs. Patmore remarked one evening after dinner when Elsie had not left the servant's hall along with the others. "You haven't talked to him for days!"

"Really? I must have been very just busy then." She took one last sip from her almost empty wineglass and rose from her chair.

"No. Don't run away again." A strong hand pushed her down again and Mrs. Patmore took a seat next to her. "You do not even argue with him anymore."

It was pointless to hold up the pretense in front of to the cook who had helped her through a time when she had been most vulnerable and full of fear. It had been Beryl Patmore who had supported her, listened to her and cheered her up with her uncalled for comments on her health. The most unlikely ally of all!

Her voice was calm and quiet. "That is exactly the problem." She twisted the stem of her wineglass between her fingers, watching the crystal reflect the light on the wooden table.

* * *

She met him on her way to her bedroom that night on top of the stairs. He was leaning against the handrail, catching his breath, not aware of her presence. She stayed silent and in the darkness behind him, unsure whether to walk past him and wish him good night or wait until he walked on towards his room. The discussion she had with Mrs. Patmore earlier found its way back into her mind.

_I think he is scared. Scared of all the changes. _

She was certain of it, though this could not be the only excuse for his behaviour. She had had time to think about him, about them, over the course of the last week in the many hours she had spent alone with her work. Of course he had been on her mind every now and then. Avoiding him during work did not mean that she would not think of him. She had tried to find answers additionally to those she already had. Was the grumpiness he took out on her only caused by his inability to adapt to the new world that had affected their way of life? Or was there something else he tried to hide behind his emotionless exterior?

Tentatively she took another step, closed the gap between them slowly. He still had not moved. Another step and she emerged out of the darkness and her body cast a shadow onto the stairs in front of her.

Slowly he turned around, noticing her behind him finally. "Mrs. Hughes. I thought you had already gone up?"

"It's been a long day Mr. Carson." His voice was soft and void of the harshness that had dominated it the last days. She hesitated and looked up to him; three more steps separating them. "Is everything alright?" It was the first personal question she directed at him in six days.

The corner of his mouth twitched into what could be interpreted as a small smile. "I am a bit exhausted to be honest."

She took the last steps to stand next to him. "You have two new footmen. Let them do the work for you." Although she suspected that his exhaustion had nothing to do with his work.

* * *

She woke from a very vivid dream. Unexpectedly vivid but not unpleasant. It had been a while since she had had these kinds of dreams and it felt strange to experience them at a time when she was not at all happy. In the past, he had only invaded her dreams after a particular good day when they had shared the remains of the dinner wine and talked about trivial things before they inevitably would part for the night. When she had closed her eyes on those evenings she could still hear his voice and see his smile. The dreams had been welcomed very much because in her imagination she could live out what would never become reality.

But tonight she had expected her mind to process their disagreements, the problems between them, her growing fear that their relationship would never recover from all of this.

Elsie lit the candle on her bedside table. The yellow glow illuminated only a small part of her room but enough to outline the silhouettes of her belongings. This was her place, had been her life for the last 20 years. One simple room on a corridor she shared with all the other female staff. Unlike in her dreams, he had never been in her room, had never seen this part of her. Yet she had allowed herself to enter his bedroom occasionally during the war when he was ill. A small part of her had yearned he would care for her in the same way one day, and his behaviour before Dr. Clarkson had announced the final diagnosis had proven that he would have done so, had she really been sick. But now she had abandoned hope that his would ever happen.

She stared at the closed door that was half hidden in the darkness. He would never knock on this one. She recalled the moment he had held her hand, when they had shared grief their grief. How everything had felt so right about this gesture. She had been convinced that he had finally accepted the new world around him. And then suddenly it hit her. There was indeed something else that made him react so unexpectedly gruff. How could she have been so blind?

* * *

It was all a matter of perspective. She had looked at the problem from the wrong angle and not taken into consideration that he might have a different reason for being so unkind. Mrs. Patmore was right, and so was she but that was only half of the problem.

When she heard the knock this time, she answered it, allowed him to open her door and enter her sitting room again. His steps were hesitant, so unlike him. As if he was afraid she would now return all the hurt and anger he had directed at her in the last weeks.

"You wanted to speak with me?" He stood in the open door, one hand still on the handle, ready to leave the room fast.

"Come in, Mr. Carson." She closed the account book and stood up from her desk to walk over to the small table by the door. "And close the door please."

Elsie observed him from her place at the table. He did not keep his back as straight as he usually would, his shoulders had relaxed as if he had already surrendered and finally acknowledged that he had made a mistake. When he sat down he at least found the courage to look her straight in the eyes.

She almost gave in immediately, almost forgot about the carefully prepared speech she was going to give him when she saw the hurt in his eyes. Buts he would not start this conversation with an apology. "We haven't talked for a while." Elsie began and was interrupted the moment she had finished her sentence.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Hughes. My behaviour, the way I spoke to you, treated you, was wrong."

His hasty apology left her speechless for a few seconds. "I agree." She waited for him to continue but when he stayed silent, she knew it was time for her confession. "But you see, it has always been like this in the past: we argued", he raised his hand as if he wanted to interrupt her but he would not stop her now, "you may call it a discussion, and in the end you apologized." She took a deep breath. "That is not how things are supposed to be."

He furrowed his brow. "I fail to understand what you mean, Mrs. Hughes. I've not treated you as an equal partner in the past few weeks although we run this house together. And therefore I'd like to apologize."

She shook her head. He did not understand what he was doing. A simple _I am sorry _was not what she wanted to hear, maybe when it came to the discussions they had about the running of the house. But he had hurt her, ignored her feelings, took it for granted that after a misstep she would always accept his rueful apology. "It is not about the house. Not solely. For matters that concern work I take your excuse. Did it never occur to you that you hurt me with your words?" It was the most personal thing she had said in the course of the last months. Her heart pounded in her chest and in her ears the sound was so loud that she was afraid he would be able to hear it.

He broke their eye contact and looked down at the lace tablecloth, tracing the pattern with his index finger. But he did not answer.

"There was once a time when you realized how your words and actions affected me. And back then I would have gladly accepted your apology at any time." Her voice was almost a whisper now. "I know that you are afraid." She paused, waiting for him to agree with her.

He looked up again, took a deep breath and seemed ready to answer but when nothing happened, they both remained silent for a while, letting the words sink in. When he finally found his voice again, it was husky and low. "I am afraid. So much has changed during and after the war. I don't know where my place is sometimes. What decisions I can still make without ridicule the whole household."

This was the moment she had eagerly anticipated. In front of her she saw Charles Carson, not the butler of Downton Abbey.

"You have to accept that the world changes. It is nothing to be afraid of."

"I suppose it is not. You seem to have no problem with this at all."

She smiled gently. "Not anymore." And then it happened. She felt how her hand reached out to cover his much larger one.

His eyes lingered on their joined hands for a moment. "I feel like a fool, hiding behind my anger for so long. Will you forgive me?" The other hand covered hers.

She held her breath. This was more than she had expected to happen. "Only if you keep your promise this time. Life is too short to always go backwards. We need to take a step forward. Not the next day, but maybe the day after that." Would he understand this in the way she had meant it?

Their hands remained on top of the table. She enjoyed the warm and somehow protective touch. They did not talk, or got lost in the other's eyes. Elsie waited for something to happen, maybe he tried to understand what she had suggested. There was one more thing she needed to add, yet after all she had already confessed, she was too afraid to address the other topic she needed to talk to him about.

But then he let go of her hand, excused himself and left her sitting room. Perhaps it had all been too much and she had gone one step too far.

* * *

**TBC let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! 3. This is the final chapter (I am not really happy about it but... I let you be the judges)**

**Enjoy reading (hopefully)  
**

* * *

_There is more between us than just friendship, isn't there?_

The sentence had been on the tip of her tongue the whole time.

_Don't be afraid, please._

She had wanted to add but the words never left her mouth, instead she remained seated at the table, stared at the door he had closed behind him. The chance for her to admit that she felt more for him than he probably knew was gone. For good? Elsie closed her eyes, concentrated on her breathing, recalled the feel of his hand on hers, the soft touch and the warmth it had spread. This had been the moment when she had been certain that she had made the right decision. It was not only the fear of change that had driven Charles Carson into behaving dismissively and cold towards her. She was sure that he had realized how much she meant to him and that this realization had intensified and hardened the wall he had built around him over the years. Showing emotions was unsuitable for a butler. It did not go along with holding the highest position among the staff. Propriety forbade any kind of sentimentality and yet he had allowed himself to feel. He had sung for her, he had worried for her. In his eyes this was something utterly wrong.

And she had dared to talk about it. Not openly but with words she had chosen carefully as not to scare him even more. She hadn't been sure if he would be able to read between the lines, pick up that a step forwards meant to allow himself to smile again, smile with her and at her. And that it also implied that she wanted to trespass the line that separated their friendship from something more, something deeper and more intimate.

He had understood the meaning that lay behind her words.

* * *

Another lonely night went by. One that included a dream where she had a heated discussion with the butler. Their arguments went back and forth without an end in sight. They were fighting with pugnacity, neither of them willing to give in and end their argument. In the end she had woken up breathless and sweaty.

The aftermath of her dream still haunted her when she went downstairs the next morning for breakfast. She could still hear his angry voice, see his hands that he had clenched into fists, feel the tension between them. It would not leave her head not even when she saw him standing up for her as soon as she entered the servant's hall. He even smiled a bit as if to show her that all was well. Nothing was. As long as he had not explained his overhasty exit from her sitting room she would remain reserved in his presence. She would not make another mistake such as last night.

* * *

"Mrs. Hughes this is ridiculous! We cannot accept _her_." The tone in his voice almost matched what she had heard in her dream.

Yet she was still calm, still trying to be the passive one in their discussion, this time about hiring a new head housemaid. And she had mentioned Ethel again. Mrs. Crawley had left a note with her Ladyship addressed to her, informing Elsie that Ethel was doing a good job but that she would not be able to keep her on forever. It was something they needed to discuss immediately after luncheon. After all they were still short of a head housemaid.

"But Mr. Carson she is overchallenged at Crawley House. Mrs. Patmore taught her how to cook but Ethel is not ready to be a housekeeper."

"No, Mrs. Hughes. You know how I think about her and I won't allow this woman to bring shame on this house." His anger was rising with every word he spoke.

She let out a sigh, took a deep breath, tried not to let his reaction affect her in any way. "The gossip will die down sooner or later."

He only shot her an angry glance and did not reply.

The anger was now slowly rising within her. She was incapable of holding back any more. This was it. He had won again. "For heaven's sake! Give her a chance!" Her fist hit the wall next to her, then she turned around and left his pantry. It had been a mistake all along to try and change her attitude towards him when he would not change, stay stubborn and keep hiding behind his unbreakable façade.

* * *

It had all become a farce. Him being unable to stop fighting and arguing with her, her trying to make him understand that his behaviour was wrong by staying calm and ignoring any additional hurtful comments he made. They would never get over this. It had been a ridiculous idea and a naïve plan of hers to even try and tell him about her feelings. She had imagined things. He did not hide any deeper feelings for her. It was simply his fear of change, his inability to accept that that made him react the way he did. The glimpse she had gotten of a caring and worrying Charles Carson on that day months ago had been a dream too, surely.

She slammed the door of her sitting room shut, the fragile teacups in her cupboard clinking dangerously. Furious she paced from one end of the small room to the other muttering curses under her breath. Why was it always the nightmares that became reality and never the fantasies? She could not bear it any longer. There had to be an end to this. Determined, she went to open her door again, leave her room and confront him again. This time directly, without hiding anything behind carefully selected words. This had proven useless the first time and she would not make this mistake again.

Blind with anger she turned the knob and although her door opened, she met resistance. He had stood in front of her sitting room, waiting, maybe considering finally talking to her. Before she lost her balance he caught her shoulders, gently pushing her back into her sitting room.

"Please sit down." This was an order, not a well-meant advice.

"How dare you…" She began but was silenced by the look on his face that would have told his footmen to shut up immediately.

The door was closed quietly this time and he joined her at the table. "Please listen to me for a moment." Now it was him who was calm and her who could barely control her anger. "I've been wrong again and I apologize. I didn't think about my words."

Her eyes narrowed. It was unlike him to admit his fault so fast.

"We need a new head housemaid and Ethel is a good worker. I agree with you on that at least", he continued. "Yet I am afraid we cannot take her on."

She turned away from him, her mouth tightly shut. He would never change and she was tired of this discussion.

"She needs to start a new life somewhere else where no one knows her. Don't you agree that this would be better?" Silence followed. He stopped talking and she needed a moment to process his words. Had he really, for the first time, offered a solution for their problem with Ethel Parks? One that was actually not such a bad idea and made much more sense than her desperate attempt to give the girl a new chance in a familiar surrounding.

Carefully she risked looking at him; trying to make sure he meant what he had just said. "It makes sense. Yes."

"Good. Then we can perhaps try and find another employment for her."

She nodded, still a bit speechless by this sudden turn of events.

* * *

During the rest of the day the atmosphere between them remained relaxed but not entirely free from cautiousness. They were able to smile at each other again and the conversations they had were calm and void of anger and spiteful comments. At the end of a long day she was even looking forward to sharing a glass of wine or a cup of tea with him. They had not finished her talk from the night before. And after all that had happened this was maybe her second chance?

She had to admit that she was a bit nervous when the knock on her door announced his arrival. He had brought a decanter filled with red wine and two glasses. Instead of laying them out onto the little table by the door, she gestured at the two chairs in front of her fireplace.

"This is a bit more comfortable." She allowed a tentative smile on her lips.

The first few sips were shared in companionable silence. Elsie observed him, the way he sat there, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fixed on the flames, one leg stretched out almost touching hers. Where they back to their well-known friendship? Could she risk another attempt of telling him how she felt?

She emptied her glass and put it away on the small table next to her chair. "Why did you leave last night?"

Startled, he looked at her but when he did not answer her question right away.

"I guess you knew what I was implying?" She clasped her hands together to prevent them from shaking. "It's not only the fear of change, of things you do not know and are afraid of, isn't it? It is not just our work here, the world outside this house that's bothering you."

He too put his glass away and bent forward a bit to be closer to her. "No. Not only."

"I heard you sing."

A smile appeared on his lips. "I didn't know you were there."

"Did you mean it?"

His hand reached out to cover hers. "I guess I did."

She tensed when she felt his touch. It meant so much more than last night although she had been convinced that something as trivial as holding each other's hands would always feel the same. "I am grateful you were there."

"You are my dearest friend, you know. I was afraid I would lose you. And I do not know what made me hurt you, why I said the things I did."

"Because _I took your heart away?"_ she tried her luck, one last time.

"Yes. You did." His leg brushed hers now and she sat on the edge of her chair to be closer to him.

"We were such fools, Charles."

"Do you want to take this step?" His thumb caressed her hand gently.

"Please." Her voice was only a whisper now but she knew that he would hear her answer, would be able to read it in her face. She finally had him back, the man she had seen so often underneath all the layers of rules and routine, the one no one suspected existed. But she knew that there was a human being inside the stern butler, a caring and sensible man. And she had found him. Their fights would not end, their little battles would not stop. They would continue arguing and discussing things but they would no longer hurt each other with words just to make a point. It would be a mutual thing now, a game between them, something they enjoyed because after a long day, they could relax together, strip off their roles and be just them. Without pretending to be someone else anymore. Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson. Together.

* * *

THE END


End file.
